The only logical explanation is the airline is using hidden cameras to spy on me. Here’s how it went down.
I get on the plane last night. I pulled the short straw with a middle seat so I got in and out of my row three times. Airlines loading planes from aisle to window is like loading a pot of cattle from the step to the nose.
It’s a fancy plane with mini televisions in the seat backs with previews and advertisements rolling. Mine is advertising stock trailers. Or some sort of horse product. I don’t know, I’m watching the silent movie version. And then this:
Yes, that is Baxter Black on my screen. The remnants of my old communications life stirred inside me. How awesome that Baxter Black is in front of the eclectic audience that is the airplane crowd, I thought. Just a smidgen of ruralness to be sure, but a smidgen is more than zero.
And then I looked around. To the right, to the left. Craned my neck, awkwardly stood up in the guise of stretching so I could see down the corridors of seats. My silent movie was the only one with Baxter Black on it. The only one!
I sat back down, looking at my boots. Gingerly brushing the Carhartt logo on my coat. Furtively eyeing the flight attendants.
How did they know?
Hidden cameras. It is the only answer I am willing to entertain at this time.